


Wind Which Blows From The Dark

by psychicdreams



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: AU, Dreams, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-23
Updated: 2007-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicdreams/pseuds/psychicdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doumeki doesn't usually dream, that's Watanuki's department, but when he does, it's always something memorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind Which Blows From The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 2016: Obviously this would end up AU considering what we later find out is the highly complicated history of how Watanuki came to be (at least it's confusing to me since I never read tsubasa).

  
Between the two of them, both Doumeki Shizuka and Watanuki Kimihiro know who has the supernatural vision. It even, as was told to him, extended to dreams and other such avenues of the mind and senses. It didn’t bother him that his grandfather talked to Watanuki. It was one of those things that Doumeki just accepted and left it like that.

And to tell the truth, Doumeki never really remembered any dreams he’d had. Watanuki had told him the dream was like he was awake and it was just as real as if he had been except for a few things like not needing his glasses.

So when he found himself opening his eyes to the puttering noises at his back, he was nonplussed. He blinked and he was sure that he had gone to sleep. Something was definitely off, as this was not his room. This was not the temple. And that light, singsong voice was not his mother’s.

He rolled over, only to find that he had been lying on some sort of sofa when he ended up crashing onto the floor. A blanket was tangled around his feet and it was amazing that if this was a dream, it did indeed feel very real. He dragged the blanket off his feet, noting absently that it was a baby blue color that reminded him of Watanuki.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Doumeki looked up when the voice caught his attention. The woman that smiled was the spitting image of Watanuki, only female. He’d always wondered which one Watanuki took after in terms of looks. Her eyes were just the perfect shade of blue like Watanuki’s left eye. Black hair seemed like an unstoppable ocean as it fell down her back to her knees. It even had the right level of waviness to it. A sweet, blue ribbon lightly bound her hair at the nape of her neck.

She smiled sweetly and it definitely reminded Doumeki of the smile that had been on Watanuki’s lips when he’d been pulled back from the hydrangea bush and had found the bones beneath it. “…Sure.”

His somehwat confused answer didn't seem to bother her and she left the doorway to saunter down the hall. The way she walked imprinted on his mind and he thought that even though she was walking, she made it seem like a dance.

What the hell?

She _looked_ almost exactly like her son. Had she been younger, he would have almost said they’d be twins. However, she seemed so calm and serene, so _where_ had Watanuki gotten his frantic flailing from?

Slowly he got to his feet and followed her, glancing around. This was not the temple, nor was it Watanuki’s apartment. In fact, it seemed to be a standard, two-level house. It was clean, but not as organized and spotless as the teenage boy’s apartment that he knew. In fact, almost every surface seemed to have at least one sort of child’s toy on it. Given a closer look, it also definitely had the appearance of a house that had a rambunctious child; such as child prevention catches on the cupboards and covers on all the electrical outlets. No breakable glass things were anywhere within reach of a small child.

The kitchen was large and no doubt would have pleased the Watanuki he knew now to no end to cook in such a place. In fact, every appliance seemed fairly new, as if the family had just recently moved in within the last year. The woman, who could only without doubt be Watanuki’s mother, was humming softly as some tea boiled and she chopped carrots.

Glancing over her shoulder, she held a finger to her lips to signal for quiet. Frowning a little, he glanced around to see a huddle in the corner of the room. Curiously, he approached it and peered down. Most of it was one of those beanbag chairs that had been a fad many years ago, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. There was a little bundle in the center of it.

It could only be Watanuki. Even as a child, he still looked like the teenager that Doumeki went to school with. He was sleeping, with a thumb gently touching his lips, as if his mother had pulled it out of his mouth when he’d fallen asleep. The skin was as pale as ever and looked even softer than it did in his reality.

He was so tiny…Doumeki couldn’t help his instinctive reaction to reach out to touch the boy, but stopped before he reached the resting boy.

“Isn’t he adorable?” the mother giggled quietly, whispering to not wake her son.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice tightly controlled so she didn’t hear the urge that he had had to cuddle that tiny creature.

As if she knew exactly when it was ready, Watanuki’s mother lifted the kettle before it could wail and disturb the silence. He backed away and sat down at the table when she gestured him to. How did one have tea in a dream? It didn’t seem strange, considering that everything _was_ strange enough that it was plausible. After all, he could touch everything around him.

“I’m Watanuki Nanako.”

“Doumeki Shizuka.”

“Thank you.”

Doumeki paused, his cup lifted halfway to his lips, and rose his eyebrow. “For what?”

“Taking care of Kimihiro.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute as he tried to get the basics down. It was like he had gone back in time to when Watanuki was such a tiny little thing, but yet somehow his mother knew of him.

Really, spiritual dreams were _not_ his forte.

“How did you know?”

She smiled and he couldn’t use any other word to describe it as ‘angelic’. “Doumeki Haruka-san.”

“My grandfather? You talk to him?”

“Not really,” she answered and sat down in the chair as whatever was baking continued to simmer until it was finished. “We met him once after he had talked to Kimihiro and he told us what had been going on.”

“We?”

“Kimihiro’s father and I.” When Doumeki looked around, expecting to suddenly see the older man, she laughed lightly. “Don’t expect him. Only one of us can be here at one time. We don’t have much power, not like Doumeki-san, so we knew this would be the only visit we could get with you.”

“And this place?”

“Kimihiro’s house, Kimihiro of my memory. In a dream, we can choose the setting and this is where I am most comfortable. And I thought you might like to see him when he was little.”

“Why did you want to talk to me?”

“To thank you.” Her voice, low as it was, whispered even lower and her soft, lithe fingers ran along the rim of the teacup that was nestled in her palms. “We did the best we could to protect him, but ever since we died, he’s been all alone. Every day we had to worry if something terrible would happen to him. Then you came along to protect him. Do you know what it feels like when you have a worry hanging so intense on you that you don’t even notice the weight until it’s gone and you realize how heavy it was only when it’s no longer there?”

“…Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I’m looking for him and can’t find him and I know he’s doing something stupid. When I find him and he’s okay, I know what that’s like.”

“Ne, Shizuka-kun.”

“What?”

“You’ll continue? To protect him, be there for him? Be a friend?”

Doumeki glanced at child Watanuki, who he could only think of as Kimihiro, and turned back gravely. “I plan to be more than that.”

She blinked and then giggled, her cheeks flushing pink. “Oh really? That’s even better.”

“That doesn’t bother you? Your son with another boy?”

“It might have when I was alive, but seeing how hard he works when we’re dead, all I care about now is that he’s happy.” She put her chin on her hand. “You know, it’s only after you die that you realize how… _silly_ it all is, worrying about gender in relationships and ‘carrying on the family name’. When you’re dead, you figure out that that stuff doesn’t and shouldn’t matter.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’d best hurry and do so, if you want, because our time is running out, I’m afraid.”

Indeed, the house and the chair and the image of Watanuki Kimihiro were beginning to fray at their edges, as if it were quilted pattern that was being unraveled. He didn’t have much time.

“Where does he get his personality from?”

She smiled, as if she was supremely amused. “His grandfather.”

\---

When he next opened his eyes, only seconds later, he was in his own bedroom, in the shrine. Slowly, he sat up and blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes. His alarm clock said that it was 3 am. That meant, if it had truly happened, he’d talked to Watanuki Nanako for nearly four hours. It hadn’t felt that long. It had felt like only a few minutes.

He smiled a little. Watanuki Nanako was indeed a beautiful woman, but compared to her, he still found the vibrancy and life of her son preferable. They may look alike, he conceded, but it was Watanuki _Kimihiro_ that made his heart pound.

“What would he do if he knew that, I wonder?”

**End**  



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